


Les Vieux Chiens

by xRabbitx



Category: DOGS - Fandom
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-02-26
Updated: 2012-02-26
Packaged: 2017-10-31 18:18:33
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,111
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/347026
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/xRabbitx/pseuds/xRabbitx
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Meanwhile, 40 years later...</p>
            </blockquote>





	Les Vieux Chiens

Heine can hear the traffic outside the window when he wakes up around ten in the morning, and he is pretty sure the sun is shining. He can’t know for sure, of course, because Badou hasn’t opened the curtains-- Badou always keep them shut so the light won’t wake up Heine. Judging from the sounds coming from the kitchen, Badou has been up for a while; the air is filled with the warm smell of eggs and bacon, and it makes Heine smile. One day, he thinks, he is going to wake up first and be the one to make breakfast for a change.

It takes a while, but he finally manages to get out of bed. Now, however, comes the tricky part, the part Heine can’t do by himself.

“Hey, firecrotch,” he calls, leaning against the bed as he waits. The answers comes immediately.

“I’ve told not to call me that, snowflake.”

“And I’ve told you not to call me that, asshole.”

It’s almost like a ritual by now. They spend a minute or two insulting each other from one room to the other, then Badou comes shuffling into the bedroom in his slippers.

“Finally up, I see,” he says as always, and his voice is soft as always.

Heine grunts in reply and moves away from the bed. Soon after, he feels Badou’s hand on his shoulder and then the fabric of shirt sleeves being gently slipped onto his arms. Only a few minutes later, Heine is fully dressed.

“Breakfast’s ready,” Badou says, pecking Heine’s cheek before taking his hand and leading him out in the kitchen and over to the table where Heine sits down.

“You didn’t burn it today,” Heine grunts as he bows his head a little and smells the plate Badou places in front of him. “Good boy.”

“I haven’t burned the breakfast in 35 years, asswipe,” Badou huffs and sits down opposite Heine. “Here, I’ve cut it out for you.”

“Just ‘cause I can’t see it doesn’t make me a retard who can’t cut his own food,” Heine says, picking up a fork before beginning to eat.

“Yes it does,” Badou snorts. “And I’m sick and tired of washing the stains off your shirts, so I’m cutting it from now on.”

“Hm,” Heine mutters around a mouthful of eggs. “I guess that’s fair.”

“You bet your balls it’s fair,” Badou says and gently bumps his foot against Heine’s under the table. “And hurry up and eat. I promised Ernest we’d be over by 11:30.”

“That old fucking fart,” Heine huffs and listens as Badou dissolves into a fit of giggles.

“If he’s an old fart, what the fuck does that make us?” he snickers and lights a cigarette.

“Young and virile males with big, hard dicks,” Heine replies, enjoying the sound of Badou laughing again.

45 minutes later they’re walking up the path to the nursing home. Heine still refuses to use his white cane, so whenever they’re out he always holds on to Badou’s arm. It may or may not also be an excuse to touch Badou all the time.

In the reception, a nurse registers their names-- fake ones, of course-- and leads them down the hall to Ernest’s room. Heine has only been here once before he lost his sight completely, but he remembers the room to be completely bare except for a bed, a dresser and a crucifix hanging over the bed. It looks like the picture-perfect living quarters of a Catholic priest, but Heine knows better, and is sure that at least one of the drawers in the dresser is holding Ernest altar boy underpants collection. Then again, that would probably fit under the description of picture-perfect Catholic priest too, Heine thinks with a smirk.

“You’re three minutes late, kids,” Ernest says loudly when they enter the room. “This merits a spanking, I hope you know.”

“Well, you’ll have to catch us first,” Badou snorts, and he and Heine help Ernest down to sit in the wheelchair. “And I’m sorry to say, but that’s not gonna happen, ever.”

“What?” Ernest barks. “Speak up, boy.”

“I said, that’s never gonna happen, you deaf tosser,” Badou repeats a little louder, making Heine snort. 

“You don’t know that,” Ernest chuckles happily as Badou wheels him out of the room with Heine on trail. “I may be old, but at least-- er...”

“Exactly,” Heine says, his hand on Ernest’s shoulder. “You’re blind, half-deaf, you can’t walk and you’ve been taking out your teeth every night for the last five years. Sorry, but you’re not catching anyone these days.”

“Oh, you young people have it so easy,” Ernest sighs and leans his head against Heine’s hand. “How I miss being your age.”

“You’re only ten years older than us, you idiot,” Badou snorts and steers the misfit party outside, heading for the small park down the street. “Quit complaining or you can wheel yourself home.”

“How strict you are, young Badou,” Ernest huffs with what sounds a lot like a pout, then turns his head to Heine. “Honestly, Heine, does he even let you take a piss without getting his permission first?”

“Not really,” Heine mutters and reaches up to cover Badou’s hand on the handle of the wheelchair, giving it a squeeze. “But that’s mostly because the pervert likes to watch me piss.”

“Fuck you, snowcone,” Badou says even as he leans over to kiss Heine’s cheek. “It’s because he refuses to sit down and piss, and since the idiot can’t see the bowl, I’ll be stuck with cleaning up his fucking mess.”

Ten minutes later they’re sitting in the park, on a bench that’s overlooking the pond. Heine can hear a group of kids playing close by and he nudges Ernest’s elbow.

“Don’t get any ideas,” he mutters to Ernest. “You’re way too old anyway.”

“Oh, tut-tut, Heine,” Ernest replies. “I would never dream of chasing after kids in my age. And why would I when I just heard an ad on the radio the other day about how you can sign up for a visitor program where they send out kids to talk with you? Now that’s home delivery for you!”

“If you sign up for that I swear to fuck I’ll get you spayed and neutered,” Badou says, making both Heine and Ernest laugh. 

Heine had never thought growing old would be like this; in fact, he had never even thought he would ever live past 35. But if he had, Heine thinks, this is certainly not the worst scenario he could have imagined. He feels around for a bit, then finds Badou’s hand and laces their fingers together.

**Author's Note:**

> This is unbeat'ed. I apologize for any typos I might have missed.
> 
> Disclaimer: I own none of this.


End file.
